


Some Times You Feel Like a Nut

by kyburg



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: And Darcy ends connecting the dots, Avengers Fest, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Clint Is a Good Bro, Coffee, Gen, Holy fuck I didn't see that coming, It's All Connected, Muffins, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Thor: The Dark World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyburg/pseuds/kyburg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Go to Boston, Darcy.  It's for your own safety, Darcy.  Keep an eye out for hawks, Darcy.</p>
<p>Or what happens when Darcy really wants some peace and quiet to eat her breakfast - and ends up catching the Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Times You Feel Like a Nut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitriona_3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/gifts).



> This year's entry into the Avengers Fest - thank you for having me and I hope you like it.

It was one of the strangest experiences in her young life, and Darcy Lewis was certain her life was indeed still young, even with many strange things to its credit so far. But being sent away by Erik Selvig, kissed on the forehead no less with an apology and a 'it's for your own safety' on his lips, Darcy had boarded the commercial flight in London, and went where she was told without much more than token resistance.

Novi Grad in Sokovia was dust. Thor had returned to Asgard, the Science Twins had disappeared into the dawn - or the sunset, take your pick - there was the strangest creature with Stark's AI's voice, but not his name at a new training facility in upstate New York that Darcy _was not to step foot into, don't you dare Darce, I mean it, okay Jane_ along with two new fliers and a painfully twee girl both Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov would not let out of their sight. For their own reasons, she was sure but there it was.

_Go to Boston, Darcy. Why? Hell if I know. Go to Boston. Get out of London, we're going to have to go to ground for a while._

_I'm in Boston, Jane. I would love to say I was waiting for Godot, but I'm not. Erik Selvig, this had better not be some kind of Prozac wet dream or something._ Too damn cold. Wet, too. Wet, dark and cold, thank you very much.

_My phone says watch for hawks. I'm outside, waiting for Thor. I hate you all. That's what I do. A lot. Just saying. Or kidding, take your pick as well. Who the hell else would I be doing this for?_

It was still early morning, the skies gray and dim with a thick layer of clouds that threatened rain, but likely were only teases. Knowing strange experiences went down easier after coffee and a little breakfast, Darcy had procured the largest cup of jet fuel-grade coffee in the terminal, liberally dosing it with hazelnut-flavored coffee creamer. It smelled amazing, right up there with the blueberry muffin soaked through with melted butter and heated to a temperature adequate to make it a passable hand warmer tucked inside her jacket. Said muffin now had the consistency of custard and was going to need a fork to eat it with, resting in a cardboard tray at the bottom of the white sack the barista had packed for her. That had been before she'd found a way out of the terminals, creeping along the runways after they'd closed in the wee-est of the wee morning hours, hunting for places large enough to accommodate a bifrost mandala, a Stark-grade jammer in her pocket to cover her signature. An electronic "you don't see me, I'm not the droids you're looking for" sort of thing. Thor bless Tony Stark. 

No hawks. No text messages. No bolts out of the blue. Still creeping across what should have been a totally no-go zone, Darcy saw some of the old hangers across the way had their bay doors opened wide, both small aircraft and the tools needed to repair them standing out where she could see them. Remembering this was the airport where security had allowed more shenanigans to board than any other, she mentally shrugged and decided it was worth another look. Airport runways were terrifying enough on take-off and landing; on foot, they were bizarre asphalt board games with herself as the token.

There was no telling when or where lunch was going to be, so carpe muffin - once she'd found a suitable place to both wait, and set things down.

That was taking much longer than it should, in Darcy's opinion. Annoying. It was light enough to navigate, but too dark to see color outside of the lights marking the runways and taxi aisles. For all that she was unhindered and unnoticed, Darcy was also acutely aware she was alone out there even as she knew down to her socks she was always being Seen by Heimdall, for all the good that did. 

It was odd, being the subject of such boundless indifference. "Heimdall sees all, Darcy," Thor had told her, slightly aghast at the mere notion Heimdall might not give a healthy rip at what she was about, when she'd mentioned the whole thing. That, if anything, had convinced her Thor - and his Big Brother pal - were probably deities of some kind. See everything, know everything, love you to bits but actually take any independent action on your behalf?

Get coffee, buy food and find a dry spot to wait for something to happen. That one on the right, the hanger with the Piper Cub parked in it, the engine sitting in a hoist nearby. That was all the help she was going to get from the divine, she was sure of it. No problem, she had it covered. Darcy had a muffin, and it was not going to get any colder if she had anything to say about it.

She absolutely hummed her pleasure after uncapping the coffee, inhaling the aroma of hazelnut coffee, with hazelnut creamer now at a temperature that was prime for gulping down without scalding anything, but still warm enough to remove the chill from her insides. Turning the top of a tool chest into an impromptu coffee bar, Darcy removed the bag containing her still-piping hot muffin from inside her jacket and set it down as she checked her phone one more time to ensure that one, it still worked and two, had not forgotten to buzz or ping to alert her of anything incoming.

_I'm in Boston, Jane. What next?_

Had it been any later in the morning the ambient noise level would have covered the sound that told Darcy that without a question she had walked into the one place with another human being in it.

A sniff, a snuffle, the sound of cloth shifting as someone moved off to her right, the left side still facing the open bay doors. There were a few industrial overhead lights still lit, but even so it wasn't bright enough to see much by.

"Okay, who's in here with me besides some really eager beaver flight student, huh?" Carefully placing the coffee back down, ensuring the white bag with her breakfast wasn't going to topple to the ground, Darcy turned to face the only color she could see in the dim morning light - a pair of eyes so blue it made her catch her breath.

So blue in a face straight out of Steve Rogers' milk carton billboard ads. Pale, red-rimmed intensely blue eyes in the squared-off face from the news feeds, the Smithsonian exhibit, everywhere - and while a voice rang in the back of her head warning her to use caution, that this was the man who had almost single-handedly taken down Nick Fury and a number of people Darcy didn't argue with, ever - Darcy found herself frozen in place, the over whelming emotion not fear, but pity. She didn't really care they'd called him Winter Soldier, maybe that was true but in front of her was someone Steve Rogers had been pleading about to anyone who'd listen, desperate to know where he was, alive or dead. And really? Looked mostly dead.

Then his nose twitched, and the eyes tracked on her coffee. She watched his nose twitch again, the pupils in his eyes going wide. Then his stomach chimed in, gurgling noisily in the silence, and those huge blue eyes tracked back up to meet hers as the mouth began to move, but no sound came out of it.  


"You need a bath," she said softly. "Poor little lost bunny. Does this smell good to you? You know this means you rate real high on the Lewis Scale of Importance here - me, giving you my coffee when it'll take a border crossing to get more. It's hazelnut - do you even know what hazelnut is?"

_Holy chrome, that's Bucky Barnes._ If anyone ever heard about Captain America - and she had, she'd spent time with Phil Coulson, serious time - Barnes was the second thing you learned about. And before Sokovia fell, SHIELD had and Darcy was well aware of who those players had been. As stunned as the public had been at finding Steve Rogers in the ice, the discovery of a second case of tampering still running around breathing and causing mayhem had made Erik suck in a deep breath, and Jane's eyes had gone distant and fearful. Thor had then taken her aside and Talked with her, and if there was anything Thor did, it was listen when Jane Talked Back to him about something.

Barnes was leaning heavily on a stack of cartons with his right arm, the left hanging limp at his side, the hand tucked into the pocket of a set of sweatpants that had seen better days. Perhaps some of it still had color of some kind, dark blue or gray but the ball cap on his head was filthy, the hoodie much the same. Then his legs went out from under him, and he slowly folded in on himself on the floor, the eyes dropping to look off into the distance as his mouth moved without any sound coming out.

"Bunny. Little bunny, here. It's coffee, and it's good. Have some."

Folding up to sit on the ground facing him, Darcy waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention, then took a long pull out of the cup, wincing inwardly that she was going to be giving it up the next second - _damn, coffee, good!_ \- and held it out to him.

The eyes looked up, tracked on her as she drank out of the cup, and then took it from her. As he gulped down the rest of it, Darcy swore she could hear it hit the bottom of his stomach sitting there and that was when she got up to fetch her muffin.

Huge blueberry muffin, split in half and soaked in melted butter, she showed it to him before twirling a forkful off it and made a show of eating it in front of him. "See? It's good, and you can eat it too." But when she tried to hand it over, only the right hand still holding the coffee raised up to meet it and it became plain only that arm was working. "Shit," Darcy muttered, watching Barnes track the muffin with his eyes, nose twitching again like the bunny she couldn't help calling him. "Here, that's empty, put it down. Here, have a bite of this. You poor guy."

He took the bites off the fork as daintily as if he'd been at a kindergarten tea party and it was so out of character, Darcy could only shake her head and wonder what was going to happen when the muffin was gone. Literally, she had her phone and some other tech, money and ID in her pockets but little else.

Watching his eyes grow sleepy, they closed before the last bite. "Wow. Who do I call first?"

A quiet hiss answered her, behind and to her left - the open bay doors again. "Ssst, Darce - it's me. No sudden moves."

_I was told to watch for hawks._ "Tell me you knew about this. That's all I ask." Watching Clint Barton put a finger to his lips, pulling the arrow back out of the recurve bow as he approached her, she raised a hand to cup his face as he quickly bussed the top of her head. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to be grateful we've got more coffee on the quinjet, sweetie. I know you."

Okay, Clint Barton and quinjet went together - add Jane, maybe this would make sense soon but Darcy didn't get a chance as a small group gathered in the bay doors as Darcy was carefully stood on her feet and steadied. The sun, just cresting the horizon made it impossible to see much more, just that three more people were coming in.

Just as quietly as Clint had snuck in on her. "Hey, Boss," he said, and Darcy took the moment to look one of her best friends over, down to taking a deep breath to catch the smell of gun oil, Ivory soap and Clint while trying to figure out who Boss was. "Looks like it was a solid tip after all. Good call."

"That's really Bucky Barnes, then? I'm not kidding myself? I found Bucky Barnes - crap, he found me. Well, my coffee anyway. Ate my breakfast. Looks like shit."

Clint only looked wry and blew air. "Think he feels like shit, can you imagine? Did you even touch him?"

"Nah, looked too spooked."

"That's all right, we'll take it from here, Miss Lewis." She knew that voice. Calm to the point of maddening, higher in pitch than one would expect of someone his size, half-voiced and sandy. Boss. Clint's _Boss._ "Thank you for your assistance."

He came into the hanger far enough for the sunlight to quit blinding her, and Darcy recognized Sif standing behind him but not the other woman on his other side, Asian and seriously unimpressed in a way only Natasha Romanov could manage on a regular basis.

But... _Coulson, Phil Coulson,_ resident expert on her newly acquired bunny boy was standing there, talking and thanking her for her service yet again.

"Twas no idle jest, my friend," Sif spoke calmly, one elegant hand on her hip, looking beyond her to where Barnes slept in a sloppy heap of loose bones. "Fear not, my lady Darcy - all is well. The same Heimdall that keeps watch over the Lady Jane and yourself, can be asked to Seek for another lost soul, if the need is great enough. And according to Thor, his shield brother Rogers was sorely grieved by the loss of his friend. It was easily done. But what do we now with him? He looks gravely ill."

"Just a moment, I need to take care of something first." Having allowed Clint to give her a hand up, Darcy first made eye contact with both Sif and the other warrior woman, there was no other way to put it before stepping to Phil Coulson, meeting his eyes and then slapping him open handed. "You stole my iPod, and then you gave it back. Asshole. Are you going to tell me you died, all of that and you're giving that back too?"

He actually had the nerve to look for backup, and neither of the two women he stood with lifted a finger. _Okay, Mulan's meaner older sister can stay. I'm having word with Sif later._

_"Ow."_ He just stood there, hand to his face as he looked down at her. "So, I died. I got better. We still have a problem here?"

"Maybe," Darcy found herself hissing. "Jane punched Loki in the jaw for New York. She aimed too high. Next time - so help me? Die on me and I'm peeing on your grave."

"I'm - something - to know you value me so highly, Miss Lewis."

And that was when she kissed him, still tasting of hazelnut coffee and blueberry muffin soaked in butter.

###

Clint Barton made cute kids, who'd have thunk it? And his girl? Totally hot. There were trails to walk down, and rocks to skip when there wasn't coffee, endless coffeecake, _oh Laura!_ and another gentle, sweet creature named Jemma Simmons who took over her bunny boy without batting an eye.

Early in the mornings, Darcy could swear she heard the sound of someone eating cornflakes along with the mystery of the rapidly emptying cereal boxes and milk jugs that went with it. But if there really was someone in the kitchen when she crept down to investigate, they were moving too fast for her to tell. 

The baby was always happy. Fed, perpetually happy and so far? If there were dirty diapers, Darcy never knew it. It was spooky, and she blamed it on gremlins to Clint one afternoon in passing. “Do tell,” he said, rolling his eyes but chuckling all the same. “What makes you think there’s more than one?”

Phil Coulson gave her a wide berth, but smiled all the way up to his eyes every time she did the same. Melinda May was every bit as cranky as she had suspected, but Darcy had dubbed her Lindy just to watch her sputter. 

"Secret Agent Lady, who else is going to call you that? I am nothing if not aware of my situation here. If you see my face, and I don't call you Lindy Hop and ask you to dance, plug me. Right here," she added, placing a finger between her eyes. "Not me, man. Not me!" 

That had gotten her a slow, rare smile. Darcy adored Melinda May. What May thought of Darcy Lewis was best left up to the imagination. 

Thor still didn't know. And Sif was okay with that. 

Rogers didn't know. And that was a bit of a problem. 

"It's good, we needed to find him first," Coulson had said one night over a home-cooked meal. But looking across the table at the rest of them, he was as stern as he could manage. "Good to study and document how he was enhanced. He doesn't have to go home. But he can't stay here."

"Agreed," May had said, draining her drink and sighing. "Jemma?" 

The subject of her question made a small sound of distress, finishing a bite before speaking. "I could try to fix - things, but for the long term? He needs more, and sooner or later, all these strangers won't be much help - one wrong move and we're all Other, and Enemy and that's just not good." Jemma was demure, sweet and incredibly shy but Darcy never crossed her. Watching her deal with the ins and out of Barnes kind of cured her of that. 

Barnes. Oh, him - he slept as much as they could make it happen, fed him as much as he could put away and somehow, kept him from disappearing into thin air. Jemma said he was running on backup programming designed to make him easy to transport, heal up but not absorb anything new or execute any higher function than eat, sleep and get ready for the next battle. "Also not compatible with children," Clint had added. 

"So we have to put him back." Coulson had said at last. "We'll put him back where Rogers and Wilson can find him." 

Watching them all decide where to granny - or grandpop - dump Barnes irked a bit more than it should have, but Darcy couldn't let it go. "Clean clothes, a shave, full tummy and all that, otherwise I'll never speak to any of you again," she said firmly, pushing back from the table. "Seriously." 

The room had looked at Darcy somewhat strangely after that. 

"Shall we give him your iPod, too?" Coulson had asked, turning to look at her. 

"He's not going to remember any of this, is he?" 

"Nope." 

"I'd consider kissing him, except he'd probably kill me."

"Yup." 

"Hate it when you make sense. Okay. Then think of what Rogers is going to feel like when he does find him. You want to consider that?" 

They even bought Barnes new clothes. The internet, so helpful. 

Boarding the quinjet to be taken back to civilization, Darcy pulled both Clint, Laura and Phil aside before she got onboard. "Just - help me out a moment," she'd started. "This. All this - wife, kiddies? I thought you and slats here were an item, birdbrain." 

"Eeeyeah, you weren't wrong," Clint had answered, folding his arms in front of him. "But who do you think set this whole thing up, anyway? Yeah, Fury knows - but even he doesn't do a great job of keeping things off the radar, rubber meets the road. You want it for sure?" 

"You go get him," Laura said firmly, punching Coulson lightly on the arm. 

"And besides," Clint added. "Some times, you feel like a nut. Some times - you don't." 

Darcy was unsure hazelnut coffee was going to still be on the list much longer after that. Clint Barton was going to get a case of candy bars drop-shipped to his oh-so-secret love nest as soon as she could make it happen. Because reasons. 

When Darcy met up with Jane again, she held the astrophysicist close and allowed herself a deep breath before she spoke. "Jane, I love you to death, but so help me? I am not giving up my coffee to zombies ever again. Pinky swear!" 

Jane had done so, rightfully confused but it was Darcy, so it was all good. "Darcy, is there anything else you aren't tell me?" 

"Absolutely, and I can't tell you or I'd have to kill you. All the things, very good things, everything is going to be okay things. Trust me."

Jane only rolled her eyes, it was almost a Pavlovian reaction these days. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Next time, tell me to go to Majuro." 

"No."

**Author's Note:**

> Written so fast! I was plagued by computer problems, sick children, work schedules that didn't allow for as much writing time as I wanted - don't be surprised if I keep coming back to Van Dyck this one, okay?
> 
> Comments adored and given good homes. Thank you for reading.


End file.
